Wednesday, July 21, 2010

This person right here. This is my husband CPM. He has decided to join the blogosphere. God save us all.

For the past fourteen years I have been on the receiving end of many of his witticisms. He loves to make people laugh, often at my expense. It's part of his charm. I have often been told by people close to me that I am far too serious, that I don't smile or laugh enough. This is the absolute truth. You know something is funny if you HEAR me laughing. My typical laugh looks a lot like my typical scowl. I fear that I will end up looking like my Gram as I age: her lips were always pursed into the meanest face, and yet, she was (mostly) the sweetest lady (with a taste for candy that I sadly did not inherit...I could always count on her to try and offer me a lollipop that she had stashed in her purse, gotten from the bank teller.)

CPM and I met in College. While we had both attended the same high school, he graduated a year ahead of me, and with six thousand students in the school, our paths just never crossed. Thus, I had no idea who he was when I got to College...I was actually dating someone else when we met. On the day of our first meeting, in the dormitory dining hall, he sat at a table with a tray loaded with six different bowls of cereal.

Understand this: he was a commuter student, free loading with a mutual dorm friend. The unlimited cereal section of the dining hall was CPM's favorite spot. He was, and still is, a fan of the cereal. I approached the table where CPM sat, since I knew some other folks sitting with him, current boyfriend in tow, we sat, and I proceeded to have the best time. CPM cracked joke after joke, poking fun at my then boyfriend, making me laugh so hard that my cheeks were hurting. I should have known then that we would end up married, but it took a little time, a drama filled break up with the other guy, some miscellaneous group hang outs, and finally, a date to a gay dance club to cement the deal. If I ever run into the gay guy who cajoled CPM into kissing me (to prove his hetero-ness) while we waited in line to get our jackets from the coat check, I should hug him. Or punch him. Depending on my mood.

On his most recent blog entry, CPM writes of an incident that took place a few weeks back on our homestead. I am holding off on addressing said incident and its fallout for a bit longer. Due to my superstitious nature, I feel compelled to reserve discussion until certain scheduled events resulting from said incident have actually occurred. But once those events have come to fruition, I will let loose with all that I have been holding in reserve.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

For reasons that shall remain unspoken at the moment, I've been feeling rather nostalgic about my house. I decided to scan some photos in from my collection. (God, I love that everything is digital now. Scanning photos is a pain in the ass.)

The spouse and I, before we were spouses, bought this house in 1999. I was 22, just out of college, and had my first "real" job (which sucked, but it paid the bills). It was a huge move for us. We had lived in a series of apartments for three years together.

This is settlement/moving day, October 29, 1999 (we drove to the settlement with a loaded truck). We look so young and innocent. This photo was taken right after Colin tried to break my foot off with my gigantic desk as we moved it upstairs.

We got the place for a song from the children of the deceased original owners. The original owners purchased it from the builder in 1951. Then they decorated it. 48 years later, when we took possession, it appeared that they hadn't changed a thing. Take a look. I can attest to the fact that there were two layers of identical wallpaper on the walls. Within two days of moving in, I had it all torn off.

This is the world's worst kitchen. I lived with this until we remodeled it in 2003. By that time, I was feeling like quite the culinary martyr. You haven't baked cookies until you've done it in a kitchen with ZERO counter space and a crappy, leaky oven.

Soon after we moved in, we got this guy, Bones. He's subsequently been through all of our renovation projects. He's such a trooper. Notice that he was allowed on the furniture initially. That eventually changed. No pets on the furniture now (except during loud thunderstorms, when I become sympathetic to my big furry wussies.)

We did a bunch of cosmetic improvements on the first floor, and then decided that Bones was lonely (he actually wasn't lonely, he was just aloof). In early 2000, we adopted Ollie. Here, you can see some of the changes we made to the house. I was going through some sort of weird "country" phase, as you'll notice from the color scheme/decor. You can also see my oldest nephew (who is now 11) attempting to eat his own foot, just like the dog beside him.

After another year, our third baby joined us. Squirt. She has now become the leader of the pack, the bitch of all bitches. When she first arrived, though, she was this adorable. I made her wear the leash at all times so that I could get her outside to pee in seconds. She didn't come by her name innocently.

Then, in 2003, we redid the kitchen. We tore out the dining room, and made it into a nice, large space. It's a different color now, because we are insane, and have repainted a bunch of times since then, but the layout is the same. It is awesome. Colin did all of the work himself in the span of 5 weeks. I hid in the basement with the dogs, leaving only to retrieve dinner from various take out locales in the area.

I have to search around for some of the photos of other improvements we've made. We've upgraded the main bathroom, added a second bathroom in our basement, finished said basement, redid all of the bedrooms, and once more, repainted the living room. The house is truly livable now.